Minutes To Midnight
by Sexy-Foxface
Summary: Tick tock went the clock until the moment it struck midnight. Time has now become the tributes of the 123rd Hunger Games greatest enemy. With not even the element of time on their side how many would stand the chance of being bestowed with the honor of victor? The strong shall fall, as the weak will perish. For many the minutes leading to midnight would be their last.
1. Time Shall Not Be On Your Side

**I already have a SYOT in the process, but I got some good ideas so I am going to be getting this one started and organized, but I won't be focusing on it until my other one is complete :3**

**I will be accepting tributes by PM ONLY so just PM me if you are interested in a spot :D**

**I am only allowing people to have one character each to participate in these Games unless you have a good idea for a pair of tributes ;D If you have an idea for a pairing of tributes just PM me to let me know!**

**Now without further ado here is the opening bit to these Games!**

Lysander sat at his neatly organized desk with his hands folded gently against its surface. President Blackburn was a man who was well known for his lack of being able to portray the emotion of empathy. Many wondered how he was able to hold onto his position of power, but Lysander knew exactly how to twist and bend his words so the people of the Capitol would believe every word that slipped free from his lips. His mind worked in the darkest of ways, but all of his inner workings where carefully hidden beneath his surface. These twisted ways where brought to light in the most subtle of ways, as the Games truly were his playing field.

Pawns to be discarded as he pleased, was how he viewed every tribute that would partake in this form of sick entertainment. In his eyes it was not sick, but what the games were to him was the display of power at its finest. Lysander has always sought out power with much desire; it had become his own toxic addiction. No one was able to touch him and he would destroy lives as he pleased without being the one to directly blame. He was discreet in his ways; he always desired to be a Gamemaker, but his thirst for power propelled him forward to achieve something more, which is exactly what he had done. He reached for the silver tipped pen and held it tightly between his clutches. His mind was working in overdrive; plotting out ways to make these games the most intriguing yet. He wanted to leave the audience yearning for more; even after the arena was stained in crimson.

It was not consider normalcy for the president to play such a role in the games, but what his nation didn't know wouldn't kill them; at least it wouldn't kill each and every one of them. A Quell was still only a few years away, but Lysander desired for something more to be added to this year's games. He wanted them to be more than the previous year's games. A cruel smile tugged at his lips at the thought of watching those twenty three individuals who believed they held a chance of being bestowed with the honor of victor being destroyed one by one. Their ambitions to live become lost amongst the whispers of the wind. The previous year's games were gruesome and bloody in a way that Lysander had not paid witness to in years. Twisted were many of those tributes, but Lysander wouldn't want it any other way. Betrayal and bloodlust were the most intriguing of emotions in his eyes; both that were clearly displayed in that arena that many viewed as a living hell for all to see.

The pen slowly began to slide across the once flawless piece of paper; leaving words of madness in its wake. Deep in a slumber tinged sleep Lysander's darkest of thoughts brought forth a twisted idea that would dawn upon him the moment his eyes snapped open. In these games the tributes would be up against more than just each other. No longer would they be each other's only enemies. Time would no longer be on their side, as the minutes that led to midnight for many those minutes would be their last.

With not even the element of time on their side just how many tributes would now even stand the slightest of chances? The strong would fall and the weak would perish; Lysander was intent on watching each and every one of them burn into nothing but ash. The 123rd games held a dark promise to be the most horrific games to be seen in years. No one would be safe as the minutes to midnight drew closer.

**Alright, so I did hint at a few ideas that will be displayed in these games and basically what shall happen is that every day that the tributes are in the arena an hour before midnight an announcement over the entire arena shall be made. This announcement will reveal a challenge of sorts that each tribute must complete if they want to survive. The last tribute to do so or the remaining tributes that can't complete what is asked of them before midnight will die in the most horrific of ways possible. That is all I am revealing ;D**

**Now submit some brilliant tributes for me and no Sues because I will not be accepting them unless I want to murder them off in some brutal way :3**

**Tribute Form**

Name: (Full name please)

Gender:

Age:

District: (Please put your top three choices and if you pick a career they will automatically be put into an alliance with the other careers unless you tell me otherwise)

Personality: (Now this is where you need to be extremely detailed)

Appearance: (Again please be detailed)

Reaped/Volunteered:

If volunteered why?:

If reaped what was their reaction?:

Family:

Friends:

A little history:

Training Score (And how they got that score; be realistic):

Interview quote:

Would they want to be a part of an alliance?:

Game strategy/Angle:

There is a large chance your tribute will perish what is your preferred way (There is no guarantee this will happen though):

Character Strengths (No more then 4):

Character Weaknesses (At least 2):

Weapon of Choice:

Worst Fear:

Optional (But please fill out; you receive five extra sponsor points for doing so)

District Token:

Reaping Outfit:

Interview Outfit:

Mentor:

**Sponsor Points: **

**At the end of each chapter there will be a sponsor question that if answered correctly will earn you extra points.**

Submitting a girl tribute- 6 points

Submitting a boy tribute- 9 points

Submitting a character made for the Bloodbath- 12 points

Leaving an actual review- 5 points

Answering a Sponsor question correctly- 6 points

PM me anything I forgot!

**Sponsor shop!**

**Loaf of bread- 45 points**

**A full liter water bottle- 70 points**

**Pack of matches- 35 points**

**A decent sized pocket knife- 55 points**

**A bottle of iodine - 35 points**

**Simple medicine: home remedies, pain killers and bandages- 90 points**

**Night vision goggles- 130 points**

**A black sleeping bag- 120 points**

**3 throwing daggers- 150 points**

**3 knives (reasonable size) - 160 points**

**1 medium sized knife and a net- 115 points**

**A blowgun and 15 darts (non-poisonous) - 170 points**

**Bow and arrow (15 arrows) - 190 points**

**4 throwing axes or 4 normal axes- 205 points**

**1 sword- 190 points**

**1 spear- 180 points**

**Capitol medicine – specify what you want it to do- 250 points **

**PM if I am missing anything :)**


	2. Tribute List

**Thank you to those of you who have submitted tributes to me so far; below you will find the tribute list and which spots are still available and which ones have already been claimed.**

The sound of Lysander's boots against the finely tiled floor echoed throughout the hallway; making his presence known. Each who crossed his path would nod politely, but would make it their intentions not to get in his way. The look Lysander clearly wore meant he was here strictly on business and business alone. Lysander stood outside the glass doors from within their confinements he could hear the buzz of the Gamemakers plans slowly beginning to come together. If only they would realize all of their planning was ill due and would be thrown to the side once his own plans were brought to light. The sick and twisted ideas that Lysander would call forth would be ones no Gamemaker would ever turn a blind eye to.

The moment Lysander pushed open the glass doors a silence danced across the room and all eyes were turned to his direction. "Sir, we weren't expecting seeing you here so early into the planning stages," Jeremiah the head Gamemaker spoke up first. Lysander said nothing, as he walked over to the table that remained perched in the middle of the room. He placed his notebook that held each and every one of his twisted ideas on the middle of the table. Each Gamemaker watched him curiously before Lysander turned on his heels and left the room without a word. An eerie silence followed his departure; Lysander was never a man that was easily understood, but this is how it was meant to be. Discreet and mysterious was the role he would play until the day his breathing would cease.

Jeremiah's eyes flickered towards the notebook and he found his mind wondering what secrets it could possibly hold. He had seen glimpses of what President Blackburn was capable of and knew locked away within those pages would be true words of madness; madness he could use to his advantage. Jeremiah could feel the eyes of his fellow Gamemakers trained on him, as he reached his slender fingertips towards the leather bound book. They all yearned to learn its secrets this much was clear.

Jeremiah slowly read over each page; he was sure to soak in every word of madness that slipped free from its pages. An almost cruel smile tugged at his lips at the more he allowed himself to read. "We have a new direction that we shall be taking these games in," He stated simply. Everyone was intrigued and once they too caught a glimpse of the madness they too were hooked. Hooked on the idea of bringing forth the most brutal games all of Panem had ever seen. It was unclear if any of the Gamemakers held onto a slight disdain for these cruel and twisted ideas. Some were not Gamemakers by their own choice, but it was expected of them. They would play along with these games and would watch as another twenty three young men and woman would become nothing more than just nameless faces in the sky.

Those who would soon partake in these games either by their own choice or against their will would remain sleeping peacefully; the unknown terrors that would soon be graced upon them would for a short amount of time remain shrouded in the dark. It would not remain this way forever, but for the last few moments of shattering peace they would not dread the moment where the clock would strike midnight. Time would soon become a deadly toxin that would hold onto the power to destroy lives sooner than they should have ended.

The soon to be tributes have never known true terror until the moment they would step into the arena; the moment the gong would tear through the once still air. Bloodshed would be brought to a whole new level; pain would soon reach unbearable heights. Tick tock went the clock until the moment twenty three would fall.

**_District One_**

Female Tribute:

Miracle "Opaque" Hanson (Tristen .the .Candor)

"Do you believe in fairy-tales? As a child I... well, I usually preffered the monsters over the princesses."

Male Tribute:

Mace Andora (I-am-foxface)

"These tributes are pathetic; I could kill them easily."

**_District Two_**

Female Tribute:

Svetlanna 'Svet' Bridlund (Insanity. and. Vanity)

"I think my chances are just as good as the next tribute; I have a few tricks up my sleeve before anyone gets the better of me."

Male Tribute:

Drew Card (Michela. The. Divergent)

"I'll sign pictures for you now, so when I win, you'll be rich."

**_District Three_**

Female Tribute:

Braylee Elizabeth Collyn (lastsacrifice)

"Just because The Hunger Games killed my brother doesn't mean it will kill me."

Male Tribute:

Greyson Drexel Straton (XxWinterFallzxX)

"Maybe I'm not the strongest tribute, but I will fight until the end for my sisters and the girl I love."

**_District Four_**

Female Tribute:

Jeanette "JJ" Jones (PuddingNinja)

"In the end, logic and wit always triumphs. So I'd watch out."

Male Tribute:

Aaron Dorn (Munamana)

"I'm like a shark, you know if they had spears or hands, or... never mind you get my point, I'm a shark and these tributes are in my ocean... or arena or whatever..."

**_District Five_**

Female Tribute:

Olivia Anne Loque (LouisVuittonluver)

"I just hope I stand a chance."

Male Tribute:

Declan Torres (Julia .the .Erudite)

"I got this."

**_District Six_**

Female Tribute:

Renee Rhode (Tristen. the. Candor)

"I'm not doing this for me... *Looks up*... it was always for him. Always."

Male Tribute:

Piston Sparks (Munamana)

"If I die, I die knowing it was by my rules and not yours."

**_District Seven_**

Female Tribute:

Tinder Fox (d11olive-13)

"I know people better than they know themselves, I know what they have done and what they will do, if you underestimate me than you overestimate yourself."

Male Tribute:

Raishio Fay (nb1998)

"You don't know anything about me so don't pretend that you do."

**_District Eight_**

Female Tribute:

Mango Lelynn Hortan (Vanilla-is-a-whore)

"My biggest wish is to die a man."

Male Tribute:

Paxton Gabriel Stoll (Phantasea)

"Nah, I'd rather prank them and I'm just going to have fun with it like I do with everything."

**_District Nine_**

Female Tribute:

Tali Sara (jakey121)

"Just because I'm beautiful doesn't mean I don't have a brain. Wait until you see me in the Arena. You're going to be surprised."

Male Tribute:

Zander Arwen (i-am-foxface)

"I may not be the strongest, but I know how to survive."

**_District Ten_**

Female Tribute:

Evanlyn "Eve" Scott (CalliLili)

"I have so much to lose."

Male Tribute:

Lance Kashirina (androidilenya)

"I'm not going to win this Game, that much is for sure. But I'll do my best to make sure that my death serves a useful purpose somehow."

**_District Eleven_**

Female Tribute:

Rose Angeline Hathaway (moosegirl45)

"All I want is to go back home and be free again."

Male Tribute:

Raff Hayes (KitKat2014)

"I may not be the fastest or the smartest, but I'm not the weakest."

**_District Twelve_**

Female Tribute:

Kai Blace (WaffleManiac)

"I don't want to kill, but I'm going to have to if I want to win."

Male Tribute:

Julius Scipio (Tristen. the. Candor)

"I am no Lower District Scum... my father was a sick bastard who disgraced me and my family. And I plan on bringing honor back to my family."


	3. District One Female Reapings

**So I am going to be giving each character their own chapter for their reapings; that way I can get into a little more detail :3**

**Here is the female tribute of District Ones reaping; I would seriously watch out for this one.**

**Miracle "Opaque" Hanson's point of view**

The glistening morning sun hangs low across the landscape; the wind blowing softly through the trees. A peaceful scene lays splayed out across my vision; a silent peace I would want to bring shattering down on an unsuspecting world. My grey orbs remain unblinking, as if I am nothing more than statue that has been created in the essence of innocence. Innocence seems to float around me on the gentle breeze; creating its own twisted sweet song. This song appears to speak to me and me alone; whispering sweet nothings of dark and sinister deeds into my ears. I remain still, as if I am listening to a voice only I can hear, but in my own reality I am reliving the day that would define what it is I have become.

Across the terrain before me lays the remains of a home that has been burned down to nothing but ash. A horrific accident it was seen as; nothing more than a twisted play of fate is how this was viewed, but in my eyes it is much more than that. A defining moment is what this rubble is to me; the defining moment where I unleashed my demons upon an unknowing world. The rest of the world would remain blind, as to what happened within the confidents of the now crumbled walls, but I am able to relive each and every moment that lead up to this destruction.

I had been in my room; lying beneath the silky satin covers that covered my bed. My mind had been working in overdrive; carefully calculating the next few steps I would take. These plans had to play out smoothly; making mistakes had never been an option. They believed they could deny me what it is I truly wanted, but they would pay for their foolish actions. Humanity would slowly pay for their mistakes; my mother would soon regret begging for no one to hear to be able to bear a child. She was deemed as unable to give birth, but she would not stop until she would hold onto her deepest of desires. All she wanted was to hold a precious child within her arms; to hold onto her own little miracle. However it would be the devil that would answer her desperate pleas; those pleas that she would regret the moment she took in her last ragged smoke filled breath.

I brushed the sheets away from my body, allowing them to billow in silky waves towards the floor. My nine year old form made dainty steps across the finely carpeted floor. I was a miracle; a child that never should have existed and in return my parents gave me everything I could have ever wanted. In my eyes however it was never enough. What I had truly wanted they refused to allow me to hold onto, but I would not allow them to block the dark path I desired to walk down. My feet brushed across the floor appearing to barely touch the ground. I appeared as nothing more than a ghost of a girl, as if I was never really a part of this world. Perhaps I never was; I was never meant to walk across these hallowed grounds, but somehow I was still present in a sense. I would be the whisper on the wind; the shadow of the day.

The door to my quarters slowly creaked open, as my eyes danced across the deserted halls. My parents would be in the parlor at this time of day; this would work well in my favor. I stopped briefly in the hall to retrieve an oil lamp that had been glowing with an eerie bright light. Its ghostly light cast odd shadows dancing across the length of the hall. My eyes fell upon the window that was perched across the wall at the end of the hall; outside the sun had begun to disappear behind the towering buildings of the District. At dusk is when the birth of true evil was brought to light; the moment our greatest nightmares were revealed. I began moving once more until I reached the stairs; I descended each step with delicate steps, as I was sure to keep my presence unknown.

I lingered within the depths of the shadows, as I walked along the cold walls. The light from the parlor flooded into the hallway in a soft golden light. Beyond the flawless white door I could hear the soft chatter of my parent's voices. "I just don't understand why she would want to volunteer; I don't want to lose our only child," My mother's soft cries bounced off the walls, as my father tried to console her. Try to end her grief all you want it won't make any difference in the end. With the oil lamp still held tightly between my clutches I walked forward once more until I stood outside the door. The floorboards creaked beneath my weight giving my parents the knowledge that they were no longer alone.

"Miracle is that you?" My father asked and in response I slowly opened the door. "You never should have denied me what it is I wanted. I am no longer a miracle, but an omen," My tone was unsettling and my eyes flashed dangerously. Before either of my parents could react I slammed the door close and quickly locked it; leaving them both trapped. I could hear my father pounding on the door, as I took a small step back. My mother's soft voice swirled around me, as I held the lamp above my head. Without as much as a second thought I brought the burning oil lamp crashing against the door. Slowly the flames began to rise, as did the sound of my parent's blood curdling screams. I fled from the scene and remained lingering in the shadows; watching the smoke billowing into the sky. I could feel the warmth of the fires licking off my skin, as the place that I once called home crumbled back towards the earth.

My eyes snap back open; sending me head first back into my reality. I wasn't sure how long I had been lost amongst my memories, as the sun now hung high in the blue canvas that is the sky. My silky blonde hair twists and bends along the gentle breeze that continued to dance around me. I listened to my parents' burn into nothing but ash and never before had I felt a greater pleasure. The blame of what had happened was never graced upon me; I was nothing more than an innocent child, what had happened was beyond my doings. I would use the blindness of the world to my advantage and only allow them to see what it is I wanted them to see. They would never know the twisted girl hidden beneath my depths; the girl that was born from the fires of hell itself. They would only know the sweet and quiet girl who has been haunted by a horrific past. They would never know that the horrors of my past were no plays of fate, but the true desires of a girl whose mind had been polluted by her undying bloodlust.

I give the tattered remains of what had once been my home one last fleeting glance before I spin on my heels and walk gracefully towards the orphanage; that prison that I have been forced to live within. Within those bleak grey walls I took on a new name; I was no longer known as Miracle, but the name Opaque had been graced upon me. I was the fair young girl with skin the color of the finest snow; I was always present when a tragic event took place, as I would be lingering within the depths of the horrific scene. The meaning of opaque is impossible to understand; a quality that fit me perfectly. I am only but the age of twelve, but my mind works in ways that not even the darkest of beings would be able to fully grasp.

The towering structure of the orphanage looms in the distance and only grows larger as I walk closer. This is where they would banish those of us that had nowhere to go, but I knew exactly where it was I belonged. I belong in the arena; to be the monster nobody say coming. They would never suspect an innocent child as myself to be capable of such destruction. What would lead the other tributes to their downfall would be how they would underestimate me. Only trapped within the blood scented arena would my features contort to exactly what demons beckoned me forward like a sick Siren's song. This song would give birth to a truly evil being; a being that would rise from the ashes.

I skip up the steps of the orphanage and disappear behind the door. I trail my slender fingers along the plain walls and make my way towards my room. I walk past a few other children who have been cast aside to this place, but they all hold onto the intentions of avoiding crossing my path. They are afraid of me this much is clear, but they never will be able to fully grasp why they feel such fear. No one ever paid witness to the crimes I had committed and those who had I silenced them permanently. No one could know who I truly was; I could never allow this glistening façade to shatter around me, as I watched helplessly. No one would know what really happened to the girl who fell two stories off a play structure and broke her leg after she bullied me. No one would really know what happened to the boy who tripped at school holding a pair of scissors causing them to pierce through his eye after he mentioned my family and the fire that ended both of their lives. No one could ever know because if they did then what would I have left? They would only know when the time was right, but soon that time would be graced upon this world that we call Panem.

I walk into my room taking in the small space that I have claimed as my own. I glance towards the small second bed that has remained undisturbed for years. I was once forced to share my living quarters with another girl, but she learned too much. This knowledge was not good for her health and I had to quickly dispose of her. I walk towards my dresser and pick up the slender white ribbon; this fine ribbon was the cause of that girl's untimely demise. Cut off from air she was; the rich elixir of life until her face was flushed in a grotesque purple. I stole away her final breath, but in reality it was the truth that had claimed her. The truth can be seen as a deadly toxin that will destroy you if you know too much.

I shimmy out of my clothing and pull out my reaping clothes. I have been waiting for this day all my life and it is finally here. I will volunteer while I am still "innocent"; before I am tainted by the pollutants the world will surely thrust upon me. I pull the frilly white dress over my head, allowing the silky material to lightly caress my skin. I brush out my hair, pulling it up into pigtails and tying it back with white ribbons. Lastly I slip into a simple pair of white ballet flats before I turn to face the mirror before me. I reach up tying my precious ribbon around my neck tying together the perfect image of innocence. I appear as fragile as a white rose's petal and so pale that I would put even the snow to shame. "Perfect," I say softly for only my ears to pay witness to.

As my grey eyes continue to remain transfixed upon my ghostly image do I hear the sound of the chimes announcing that the reapings shall be starting soon tear through the District. I don't hesitate before I am out the door; I am more excited than any other child should be in this moment. I quickly make my way towards the town square and this is where I see it. The stage that many have walked upon before; both victims and victors of the games and soon it will be my turn to stand upon that stage for all to see. Soon everyone will know that I am more than a ghost that walks this earth.

**If I were you I would hope she doesn't cross paths with your character ;D**

**I'm not too sure when I will have the next reapings up, as I do not have a male character for District One yet.**

**Now here is your sponsor question for this chapter! Also remember that you do get sponsor points for leaving a slightly proper review and generally those who review more often their characters usually make it further because I think it is fair :3**

**In Mockingjay what exact page does Finnick O'dair die on?**

**The first to answer correctly will receive six sponsor points and the next three to answer correctly will receive four sponsor points!**


	4. District One Male Reapings

**The answer to my previous trivia question was: Page 312 to 313.**

**The receivers of those points were Tristen. the. Candor who answered first and got six sponsor points. The following three each received four sponsor points: PuddingNinja, d11olive-13 and kitkat2014**

**Also I seen in one of the reviews that some don't want me to write all of the reapings, but I am going to be writing a reaping for each character because personally I think each character needs an introduction so the readers can get a feel for who will be participating in these games.**

**This boy is crazy not as crazy as his partner, but still he is not quite sane xD**

**Mace Andora's point of view**

The rising hot steam seeps from beneath the shower doors and causes a ghostly mist to swirl around my form. I stand before the clouded mirror with a towel wrapped tightly around my waist. I wipe my hand across the mirror until my fuzzy figure comes into view. I observe myself from each angle; taking in the body I have worked so hard to achieve. I stand at 6'5 and my size causes waves of intimidation to continuously snake their way free from my body. A small smirk dances across my lips, as my cold dead grey eyes pierce back into me. They appear almost lifeless, but in a sense I am still very much alive.

However there is a part of me that died many years ago; that vital human quality that allowed one to feel the capacity of remorse and compassion. Neither of those emotions have graced my being since a young age or if ever. Pain is something I have thrived off of from the time I was still a child with brand new eyes. I remember the first moment I ever inflicted pain upon another as if it only happened yesterday. We used to have a pet cat which my mother had named Tiger, as his black and orange criss-cross patterns that ran across his fur resembled the beast. I was always told that animals were able to sense evil in a being and every time I entered a room were Tiger was present he would hiss violently towards me.

Perhaps these acts were the first warning signs to what I would slowly start to become; a warning to the monster that lurked just below my surface. The first time that damned beast struck its claws against my flesh bringing forth sprouts of crimson I silenced it forever more. I tore out its insides using nothing more than a simple kitchen knife; I did not stop till our once family pet was nothing more than a mangled unrecognizable mess.

I was not scolded for these sadistic actions, as this is the moment my father saw the potential that I held tightly between my clutches. At the age of only four it was clear to see I would step beyond the stereotypes that careers have been labelled with. Violence was my essence, but I held onto cruel and twisted aspect many human beings wouldn't be able to comprehend. They wouldn't be able to see what made me this; what made my mind tick. What propelled me forward like a sick Siren's song was the promise of bloodshed the games could offer me.

The steam continues to rise from the shower in tendrils that lick across my damp skin. Beyond the clouded window I know the rest of the District is still deep in a slumber tinged state, but I never had time to give into the slumber that would call me forth. The sun will soon begin to rise above my home, but not until I hone in on my skills one final time before I leave this place. I will be coming back shortly this much is clear in my eyes; I have not put myself through all the pain and torture to only come eye to eye with failure.

I throw the towel to the floor before I step into the shower; allowing the scolding hot water to caress my skin. I do not howl in pain or allow a single hint of pain to escape my lips, but instead I stand beneath this fiery hot rain void of any emotions. This is just one step to preparing myself to be the monster no one could have ever seen coming. These seemingly sick ways of self-torture would only increase my mentality to resist the calls of giving into any wounds that may tear apart my flesh.

The moment I step free of the burning water my skin begins to glow in a soft red, but still I don't flinch from the pain. This pain will pale in comparison to the torturous ways I will end any pathetic tribute who dares to stand in my way. I quickly pull on my training clothes and slip out the door before my family even begins to stir. I walk across the familiar route towards the building that houses tributes both victims and victors to be. Within these walls we train for the glory and power of being able to emerge as victor. I push open the solid glass doors and my eyes dance across the room taking in the few fellow people that dot the room.

Standing in the center of the room is the one person who makes my blood boil just at the sight of her. Brianna Covey is a previous victor and she struts about the District as if she owns these lands. I crack my knuckles, as my more primal being desires to hear her bones being destroyed by my clutches and my clutches alone. I never once needed a reason to go on the search for a fight; my deepest of desires longed to cause destruction and I would give into them without as much as a second thought.

Break her bones and shed her blood is the only thought that continuously ran across the field of my mind almost in a continuous mantra. My hands twitch lightly, as I make my way across the room. Brianna senses my dark presence and turns around causing her dark blonde hair to billow around her in silky sheets. Her deep emerald eyes glimmer menacingly in the light, as a sinister smile graces her lips. Her mind is twisted on many levels, but her insanity would pale in comparison to my own. She was known to be the toughest female career and by smashing in the head of a twelve year old by using nothing more than a coconut during her games only increased this image. "Well doesn't someone look like their looking for a fight," She almost coos. Our paths have crossed before, but it was always the sting of insults we would hurl at each other, but in this moment I am ready to take things a step too far.

"Well I wouldn't exactly call it a fight when you are no real competition at all," I smirk confidently and in the blink of an eye one is able to pay witness to the flush of anger that dusts its way across her cheeks. I quickly duck out of the way of her first throw, as we are both through with words. There will be no dragging out petty insults when we can both use our actions as a way of a sick form of communication. We both twist and bend our bodies in unnatural angles; displaying what being a true career really means. My fist connects with the solid bone of her nose and the sickening crunch of bones rings through the air. In this moment of venerability I reach towards my boot where my knife peacefully resides, but before I can feel the familiar steel held between my clutches I am tumbling towards the earth under someone else's weight.

A growl escapes my lips, but this is cut short the moment Brianna slices her own knife cleanly across the flesh of my face; leaving a crimson stained jagged line in its wake. A howl that is backed up by a sinister anger escapes my lips, as my crimson blood begins to streak down my skin, clouding my vision. In a moment I feel her weight being lifted away from me. "You need to learn your place Mace," Brianna spits next to my head before she strides out of the building with her head held high in pride.

"What the hell Mace? I know you're the twisted one who gets off of inflicting pain, but did you really have to go picking a fight with Brianna?" I wipe the blood away from my eyes and look up into the dark brown eyes of the only person who is able to keep up to my level. While I thrive off of pain Quinn thrives off of danger. She had always gone out of her way to get herself into situations that could lead her to her untimely demise.

"I wanted some real competition for a change," I mutter, as I furiously wipe away at the blood coating my skin. Quinn rolls her eyes, as she takes my hand forcing me to my feet. "Well you got your ass handed to you Mace and not to mention that is going to turn into one nasty looking scar." I narrow my eyes at her and fall into an icy silence. I run my hand through my thick blonde hair, as I begin walking towards the door. My fresh cut stings with an intensity I am rarely exposed to, but I don't allow the fact that I am in pain to ripple across my surface.

Quinn easily falls into stride next to me, "So are you ready to volunteer?" I grunt in response knowing I have never been more ready. Now with this gruesome cut gracing my features this world we call Panem will see a glimmer of the monster that must lurk beneath my surface. "I suppose I shall take that as a yes," Quinn says with a shrug of her shoulders. Both Quinn and I have been awaiting this year's reapings, as we both hold onto the ambitions to emerge as victor. That fact that she is volunteering alongside myself does not faze me the slightest; I would not hesitate to stab my own mother in the back once the right moment was to present itself.

We arrive at the town square that is buzzing with activity and part ways once we are both signed in. I stride towards the eighteen year old male section and I send an icy glare towards anyone who dares to look at me longer than simple second. "Welcome Panem to-" The moment the static of our escorts voice begins to ring through the air at an unnaturally high pitch I turn her off. I want the moment where I allow those seeming simple two words to escape my lips for all to hear to finally arrive.

"I volunteer," The soft ringing innocence of a tender voice snaps me out of the crimson tinged state I had slowly began to fall into. My eyes fall upon a small young girl emerging from the twelve year old second; an aura of innocence seeming to envelop her with each step she takes. She skips up towards the stage and I have to bite my lip hard enough to draw blood to stop myself from laughing at this sight. How is it that a young child thinks she will even stand the slightest of chances? She will be the first to fall by my hands this much is clear. I quickly glance towards the female eighteen year old section until I find Quinn whose face is flushed with anger. This young girl stole away her final chances to volunteer and I simply roll my eyes in response to her features contorted in rage. Quinn has always been weak anyways and would be one of the feeble tributes to perish during the clutches of the bloodbath.

The young girl bathed in innocence introduces herself as Opaque Hanson; a name that holds no significance to myself. The pity that is, as it is much more enthralling to be able to turn on those who hold a purpose in your own life; to display the art of betray in its purest form.

"Now onto the males," Her long lavender tipped nails scrap across the glass, but before a name can slip free from her lips I break free from the crowd. "I volunteer," My voice rings with a confident hostility. A twisted smile graces my lips, as images of previous games streaked in crimson flash across my eyes, while the sounds of tortured screams ring in my ears. Insanity has never once before tasted so sweet, but never before had one allowed their sanity to slip through the cracks as easily as I have. This is where I was meant to be; a play in fate perhaps, but the predestined path I would walk down would be soaked in crimson.

**Yeah District One is completely off their rockers xD**

**Now make sure you review :3**

**Here's your sponsor question for this chapter!**

**Panem, once known as North America, was named after a famous Roman phrase. What is the English translation of the Roman phrase?**

**The first to answer correctly will receive six sponsor points and the next three to answer correctly will receive four sponsor points!**


	5. District Two Female Reapings

**The answer to my previous trivia question was: Bread and circuses. **

**The receivers of those points were d11olive-13 answered first and got six sponsor points. The following three each received four sponsor points: Tristen .the .Candor, Lastsacrifice and LouisVuittonluver.**

**So these tributes are not getting any less crazy; these Games are seriously going to get interesting ;D**

_**District Two**_

**Svetlanna 'Svet' Bridlund's point of view**

The soft glow of the candle before me flickers playfully from the breeze that flits through my open bedroom window. My entrancing deep emerald eyes appear large in the gloom that the light sends casting over me in warm eerie waves. I don't blink, as I take in the deep colors that dance before me. The warm candle wax rolls off the slender candle in hot waxy sheets and pools along the desk where my candle resides. I reach my slender fingers that appear to be void of any color towards the flame; wanting to claim its heat as my own.

This had slowly become an obsession; my own toxic addiction. I wanted no needed this pain; it allowed me to keep my hold on what little sanity I still held onto. It kept me present in today, not lost deep in a world tinged in the deep crimsons of the earth. The flames lick across my skin; sending a hot searing pain running through my veins, but I embrace this sensation with my arms spread wide. I can feel my skin beginning to melt, as if it is sliding off my bones. I unwillingly pull my hand back to observe the new damage that has been branded into my flesh. My skin glows a deep red, part of the skin having been melted away, but this enthralling sight only causes me to lick my lips hungrily; calling forth the sick sensation of needing more.

My hands begin to shake wildly, as this twisted addiction begins to slowly take over. My mind is nothing more than swirls of colors, as I pull apart my room until I find my prize. I hold the flawless steel blade between my dainty fingers, while my lips curve into a twisted smile. This smile that graces my lips never should have belonged to nothing more than a fourteen year old girl; it is a smile that would belong to only the most sinister demons that roam this world. The smile of the devil is what it could be branded as.

My hands act upon their own will; pulling up my pant leg and allowing the blade to slice deep within my flesh. A soft groan escapes my lips, but it is the power behind it that keeps me standing. I wrench the blade out of my thigh; allowing the deep crimsons to snake their way down my flesh. It is this pain that I cast upon myself that will make me stronger than any pathetic fool who even dares to stand in my path. I hold the knife up between my clutches and the scarlet stained tip catches the paling light that streams through the window, causing crimson stained shattered glass patterns to criss-cross their way throughout the white carpeted floor.

A single deep red drop falls free from the steel; everything appears to slow down as it lands in ripples across the snow white sea. I tilt my head to the side watching as several more droplets break free from their hold. They bleed into the carpeted floor; leaving memories in their wake. The memory that true insanity once lived amongst these walls. I bring my knife down once more; tearing away at my soft scarred flesh. Each scar holds its own story to share; its own shred of insanity to utter to this crumbling world. They believe I am the one who has lost her hold on reality, but perhaps it is the rest of the world that is no longer sane.

I tear my knife out of my leg once more, wincing slightly, as the sickening sound of flesh being torn into delicate slices rings though the air. I bring the tainted blade towards my lips and graze my tongue along the flawless steel. An inaudible growl intertwined with an undeniable animalistic hunger escapes my lips, the moment the sweet syrup of humanity graces my lips. I lick my blade clean; relishing in the taste of my own blood against my lips. I long to taste this sweet crimson wine of another human being; a wish I will soon carry out.

I leave my room; leaving a trail of scarlet droplets in my wake and make my way towards the bathroom. I stand before the mirror for the briefest of moments; regarding each of my features that define the mask I wear upon my surface. My eyes graze across my sharp pointed nose and take in my high cheekbones. I run my hand through my rich brown hair that only reaches my jawline; in my eyes it is impractical to have long hair, as all it will do is interfere with the actions of madness I shall carry out. My pale skin appears to glow with a luminescent light, as if never once has the warmth of the sun seeped into my flesh. My ruby tinted lips contrast against my snow white skin, but the dark smirk that tugs at them is undeniable. I would never be considered pretty in the eyes of humanity, but insanity was never meant to be appealing to the eyes.

With light footsteps I walk into the large shower and allow the crystal clear water to caress my skin. The water beneath my feet is stained crimson, but slowly this fades to a tinged pink until it runs clear once more. I run my fingertips lightly across my fresh wounds and gently dig my fingers deeper into the open cuts; bringing forth fresh spirals of this thing we call pain. Many would shy away from this sensation, but I see it as a beautiful gift that has been graced upon our nation. Humanity was meant to feel pain, just as I was meant to cause pain. I glance down at my small hands; how something so innocent looking could cause such destruction is something many of the world would never be able to fully grasp.

They were not meant to understand, as they were not graced with the gift I have received; this beautiful gift to be able to enjoy pain, to want to taste the sweet liquor that burns through our veins. I step out of the shower; water droplets still tinged in a soft pink clinging to my damp skin. I pull a simple black shirt over my head along with a pair of beige trousers. My family has always been on the poorer side, but that only gives everyone more the reason to underestimate me. I pull my leather boots on and run my hand through my hair one last time. My eyes glimmer with an insanity not many can claim as their own, but perhaps this is a glimpse into seeing the shift in my mood about to give way. My moods change in ripples faster than any wildfire could spread; bipolar disorder is what it has been labelled as, but my own dark power is what it is seen through my eyes.

I walk down the bleak hall, but stop short in front of a long vacant room. I push open the dark wooded door slightly and take in the dusted remains of a room that once belonged to a young child. The wallpaper has begun to fall away from the walls, while a few vacant expressionless toys scatter the ground. I take a single step into the room, causing wisps of dust to flit about the air. My eyes remain transfixed upon the cradle that resides at the far end of the room. No being has slept within its confinements for many years now and a dark smile plays across my lips, as I know this is all my doing.

"Poor little Gregovin," I murmur in a sinister manner beneath my breath. He never got his chance at life, as I stole this away from him when he still looked upon the world with the innocence only the purest form of a child could possess. I was only the age of eight, but I never held onto the innocence most young children do. My mind was cursed and twisted in the most horrific of ways. I never chose to become what I have grown into, but I wouldn't turn my back on who I am, but instead will embrace the monster that lurks just beneath my surface.

I tilt my head to the side, but my eyes remain transfixed on the crib before me, as I relive the day I claimed my younger brother's life as my own. I smothered him in his sleep; I watched as his body twitched wildly, screaming for the air that would never grace his lungs. That moment where he drew his last breath is where I became strong; where I finally embraced the dark thoughts that always plagued my every move. Not a lick of remorse drips in my eyes for what I have done and for what I will surely do. They never believed the loss of his life was my fault; I was nothing more than a child, murder was beyond what I was capable of. If only they had realized just how wrong they were.

I leave the now abandoned nursery that has become more of a graveyard and descend the stairs. The hour of the reapings has slowly drawn closer and the feeling of excitement that has rooted itself at my core is undeniable. The moment I reach the end of the worn out stairs a wave of the stench of liquor hits me. I scrunch up my nose knowing what will be lurking in the depths of the kitchen. I peer my head around for door to find my father sprawled out across the floor; having drank himself into slumber.

The vilest scum of the earth is what he is to me; drinking away the pain of losing my mother is all he capable of now. Perhaps it is his fault I have become what I am; deprived from the love and attention every child needs is what I was, but he never paid notice. I know he won't even notice that I am gone until he sees my form upon the screen, displaying the reapings that are taking place all over Panem today.

I clench my fists, as he twitches lightly in his sleep. My plan is simple; once I return home as victor I shall claim his life. What would one more kill do? He would become one less pathetic excuse of a man roaming this earth and nothing more. I want no need his scarlet blood stained across my flesh; he wouldn't be missed this much is clear. I walk out of my home and stand beneath the warm of the sun, which scorches along the length of my flesh.

Today I will be volunteering and I will cut down anyone who tries to take this from me. I will tear their throat out using nothing more than my teeth in front of all of Panem to see if that is what it comes down to. We all have our reasons for the course of actions we will carry out and even I have my reasons to wanting to volunteer. I have grown tired of tributes before myself from my District falling short of claiming the honour of becoming victor. They always fall for the same reason; underestimating their fellow tributes. Such a foolish mistake that is that leads them all to their untimely demise. I will bring glory to my District and will spill as much blood as possible on my path to being bestowed with the honour of victor.

A glimmer of madness ripples across the surface of my eyes, as I lick my lips hungrily. There have been monsters that have lurked within the shadows of the arena before myself, but I will raise the bar to what true madness is. I will show that insanity can lurk beneath any surface; even behind the mask of an innocent child. The perfect predator is what I am; being able to live with the horrors I will carry out is what I shall do. The deep crimson blood of another fellow tribute shall course through my veins; their screams shall ring through my ears like a sweet lullaby before I allow them to slip into an eternal slumber.

**I think she might even give Opaque a run for her money :o**

**Anyways make sure ya'll review and yes I know telling you this shall get annoying, but I'm going to keep telling you anyways ;)**

**Now here is your sponsor question!**

**When did Peeta first fall in love with Katniss?**

**The first to answer correctly will receive six sponsor points and the next three to answer correctly will receive four sponsor points!**


	6. District Two Male Reapings

**The answer to my previous trivia question was: On the first day of school when he heard her sing.**

**The receivers of those points were Vanilla-is-a-whore who answered first and got six sponsor points. The following three each received four sponsor points: PuddingNinja, I-am-foxface and Tristen . the . Candor. **

**Finally I have a somewhat normal career no more crazies at least for this chapter anyways ;D**

_**District Two**_

**Drew Card's Point Of View**

It is the same thing every year; we are all herded like cattle ready to be sent to the slaughter, waiting under the basking sun for those two names to be called out for all to hear. I stand in the sixteen year old section, but everyone keeps their distance from me, creating a small bubble of air surrounding me that everyone knows better than to enter. I send a cold icy glare at anyone who even dares to cast me a look, foolish they are for casting their attention in my direction. What I would give to just crack their skulls open on the dark cobblestoned streets, to release all my anger and frustration on someone whose name I don't even know. I breathe in sharply, allowing my gaze to drift towards the light blue sky that stretches out above the District. I wasn't always this way, so angry all the time, hating the world I was a part of, but people change and it's not always by choice.

I never changed by choice, I never wanted to feel this boiling rage coursing through my veins every waking moment, but through the plays of fate that are my life this is what I have become. My eyes fall shut for the briefest of moments, the days where I didn't constantly try to shut out the world flickering across my now closed eyelids. I picture a childlike version of myself and he has a genuine smile tugging at his lips. Smiling seems like such a simple action, but I can't remember the last time a real one has graced my lips.

The static buzz that tears through the town square cuts off my thoughts and demands that my attention be turned towards the stage. Our escort looks so absurd and out of place with her dyed purple flesh and shockingly bright pink hair. She looks like some exotic bird, with her long fluttering eyelashes and a part of me longs to see her trip over her ridiculously high heels, helplessly tumbling towards the ground. I can almost picture her arms flailing out, reaching for something that does not exist to help her maintain her balance; I can almost hear the sickening crack of her skull hitting the pavement. A dark smile of amusement tugs at my lips at these thoughts; violence really has become my only form of salvation. It's how I work out the emotions that I don't know how to handle. No, it's not a healthy way to deal with the emotions I can't even begin to understand, but no one has taught me any other way to deal with them so this is what I am left with.

"Welcome District Two to the reapings of the 123rd Annual Hunger Games! Hard to believe so much time has passed since the first Games," Her high pitched voice is enough to cause me to clench my jaw in frustration. I never understood the point to all this useless drabble, I want to scream at her to get to the point of all of this, but the wait before the names are drawn are just another way they control us. They make us stand here with anticipation flowing through our veins, some watching her bright pink lips carry on with a building excitement to the moment where they may be chosen or get the honor to volunteer, while other's dread the moment where a name is drawn, fearful that it may be their own. Those are the weak, the ones who don't deserve to be here. She carries on about our history and what brought us to this point in time, but I mostly tune her out, having heard it one too many times before.

"Now shall we find out who the lucky female tribute for this year's Games is?" Our escort chirps excitedly, as she walks forward towards the large reaping bowl, filled with hundreds of small slips of paper, her heels clicking loudly against the stage with each step she takes. As her nails rake down the side of the glass a sharp tongued tone rings out through the District before her fingers can even graze across the white of a slip of paper.

"I volunteer!" A small girl breaks free from the crowd of fourteen year olds, a dark look dancing across her features. I roll my eyes, as she takes the stage, looking at our escort with an utter look of disgust, as she tells our District her name. "Svet Bridlund," Her tone is sharp, her eyes rippling with a fiery anticipation. I find a part of me is envious of that small pathetic girl, simply because she had the courage to allow those seemingly two simple words to slip free from her lips, something I have not been able to do. I have spent years trying to convince myself to volunteer, but every time that the opportunity presented itself I found my voice catching in my throat, unable to utter a single word. It's weakness that I possess, something I will not easily admit to the rest of the world.

"Now let us move onto the males," Our escort looks uneasy and everyone can see this is because of Svet's presence. It's the way her eyes flicker across the deep veins that pop out of her neck, as if Svet is picturing sinking her teeth into her flesh and for all anyone could tell she could be. The mindset of the children from our District has always been violent; it comes with the upbringing many of us face.

My focus is off, as I am busy watching the sinister look that continuously flickers across Svet's features, but my focus is pulled back into a sharp reality by the sound of my name being carried along the breeze. "The male tribute for the 123rd annual Hunger Games is Drew Card!" My heart begins to hammer against the confinements of my chest, but on the surface one would not be able to tell this. On the surface an arrogant smile creeps across my lips, as if this is what I truly wanted in the end, to be chosen to participate in this year's Games. I have spent years trying to convince myself to volunteer so this must be a stroke of luck to be reaped right? A part of me screams that this is wrong, that this is not what I truly desire, but I block out that part of me.

As I begin to walk forward I see a look that I have seen many times before grace a boy next to me features, a look that shows he is about to volunteer. As he opens his lips to speak I roughly grab him by the collar of his shirt, hissing through my teeth, "Volunteer and I will personally put an end to your life right here, right now." My threat sends a look of shock rippling across his features, but he falls quiet. I know all of the cameras will be trained on my form so I may as well play up the roll of the bloodthirsty career I am expected to be. I push him away from me and make my way towards the stage. "Well someone seems happy about being reaped. District Two I present to you your tributes for this year's Hunger Games, Svet Bridlund and Drew Card!" Our escort's words are soon followed by a thunderous roar of applause. Of course they would be proud to see the tributes that have been selected to represent them, as they expect us to bring honour back home with one of our lives.

I don't spare the crowd an ounce of my attention, as I turn to face Svet to shake her hand. As we grip each other's hand, she surveys me as if I am nothing more than a piece of meat, sending an unsettling feeling spiralling out of control throughout my body. On the surface though I do not let this show, but instead I tighten my grip on her hand. "Don't think that you're going to be the one to sink your teeth into me sweets," I practically growl at her over the applause that echoes back at us off the walls of the buildings surrounding the town square. She tightens her grip as well to the point where we are both crushing the bones in each other's hand, narrowing her eyes at me in a cold glare. "I wouldn't be so sure about that," She says coolly, as she cocks her head to the side, allowing an innocent smile to dance across her lips, but I can see straight through her act. Before I can respond to her we are being ushered towards the Justice Building for our final goodbyes where I know no one will come to bid me farewell, as I have no one left in my life that will care to see me go.

I keep up my air of arrogance until I am escorted into a finely furnished room in the Justice Building, where I sink down into a plush chair made of fine velvet, burying my head into my hands. I am engulfed by silence, the minutes beginning to drag on by. I was right, no one would be coming to say goodbye, but I am the only one to blame, as after I lost my family I began to push everyone away. I shut out the world once I was alone, refusing to let anyone in, but to the surface world they cannot see just how broken on the inside I am. I cannot afford to show an ounce of weakness, especially not now. I breathe out slowly, regaining my composure. Hate is all I feed off of now and I can use that to my advantage to win these Games, but if I do win what is it that I have to return to? Nothing, but that won't stop me from trying.

I have longed to volunteer since I was the age of thirteen, but on the inside I have always been too much of a coward to do so. How ironic is it that the boy who was too afraid to volunteer was reaped? Fate really does have a twisted sense of humor. I continue to wait in silence until the door creaks open and a Peacekeeper instructs me to follow him. Now is the time to act, now is the time to make the world want to see me win. As we stride out of the Justice building I grin in an arrogant manner to the people standing in the crowds lining the streets, watching us make our way towards the train station. I can already see the ones who will be hoping to place bets on those who have been birthed from their own home District. At this sight I make a point to pull back my shoulders slightly and to lift up my chin because for all I know one of these people could be the sponsor that sends me the supplies that in the end saves my life.

I will continue to play up the role of the arrogant career, despite what is going on beneath the surface. I will use my hate to aid me, use it as fuel to push me beyond my limits. I will destroy the lives of those who stand in my way, the lives of those who have families, who have people who care, something I no longer have. I will make them suffer, I will thrust my own torment upon the unknowing. I know this isn't right, but then again when has anything in this world been right? We are all corrupted in some way, roses choked out by a coil of thorns is what we have all become. I run my hand through my hair, another cocky grin tugging at the corners of my lips as the cameras are pointed my way. This is just a game to them, but that is all it is to me as well, a game where there is so much to gain, but so much to lose.

**Finally I have updated this story; sorry it has taken me so long!**

**Now you know the drill make sure you all review. ;D**

**Now here is the sponsor question for this chapter.**

**What does Effie think compressed coal turns into?**

**The first to answer correctly will receive six sponsor points and the next three to answer correctly will receive four sponsor points!**


	7. District Three Female Reapings

**The answer to my previous trivia question was: Pearls.**

**The receivers of those points were CalliLili who answered first and got six sponsor points. The following three each received four sponsor points: Androidilenya, PuddingNinja, and XxWinterFallsxX.**

_**District Three**_

**Braylee Elizabeth Collyn's point of view**

I roll over lightly in my sleep, my body becoming intertwined in the wool of the blankets that surround me, my mind lost to a world of sweet dreams. This is the only place where I cannot be touched, where no harm can be brought to me. My dreams are mine and mine alone, even if there are nights such as tonight where they don't make sense. My dreams tonight are not as sweet as chocolate, but are laced with a darkness unknown to me. My features are void of peace, twisted up in a look of restlessness. This dream however is not new to me, but it is one I don't have very often, but today of all days, Reaping Day is when it makes its presence known once more.

I breathe in deeply the air of my surroundings, of a place I have only seen through the cracked screen of a television. Bright green foliage surrounds me; the sounds of birds bursting into song overheard ringing through my ears. These eyes that do not belong to me take in everything. They examine the way the trees seem to be reaching towards the dark blue sky, taking in the way the wisps of clouds are interwoven into the blue. They pick up every little detail, even the way the end of the grass splayed out just inches away from my feet are singed at the top from the scorching sun seeping away all of their moisture. Beads of sweat begin to roll down the back of my neck, but when I look down at my hands I register that these rough callused hands belong to another. I'm looking through the eyes of my brother, taking in what he saw or at least what my mind believes he saw before his life was snatched away from him.

Everything feels so real, the wind whipping through my hair, the anticipation buzzing through the air with an electric charge between the twenty four of us that are strung around the gleaming cornucopia in a spaced out circle. My heart is hammering in my chest, as the timer slowly draws closer to the dreaded number of zero. This is wrong; all of this shouldn't feel so lifelike. "It's just a dream," I mutter in my sleep repeatedly, but that does not pull me out of my slumber tinged state. My breath hitches in my throat the moment the gong tears through the air, but my feet begin moving on their own accord. The feet of my brother make a quick dash towards the cornucopia, but mentally I begin screaming at myself to run towards cover, instead of throwing myself willingly into the heated swirl of chaos. How could my brother have been so foolish, as to run straight into the blades of the strong?

My feet crunch against the charred grass, my hands fumbling for any type of supplies that would have aided my brother in these games of survival, but as his hands, which I am working through clutch around the cool metal of a knife, a strong pair of hands grab me from behind, throwing me towards the dusted earth. The moment my body slams into the ground all the air rushes out of my lungs, and I am left starring into the cool emerald green eyes of the District Four boy that looms over me, a dark smile playing across his lips. My body is paralyzed by fear, my heart beating to escape the confinements of my chest. "No, need to look so scared District Three," He says with a cruel edge to his tone. If it had really been me in this moment I would have allowed a fury of sarcastic and clever remarks to escape my lips, but everything stops short the moment he brings the steely edge of his axe down to meet the cool satin flesh of my neck.

The moment the sharp axe would have torn away the flesh of my neck I jolt awake, sitting up briskly, my hair matted to my forehead by sweat. My breathing his shallow, but my lips are pulled down in a frown. It was only a dream, watching my brother's death in the Hunger Games through his eyes. It was difficult watching it through the television, broadcast for all to see, but my mind twisting everything around, forcing me to live through it in my state of dreams is taking things one step too far. The faint morning sun bursts through the cracks of my window, streaming into my eyes. An exasperated sigh escapes my lips, knowing there is no sense in even attempting to go back to sleep. It is time to doll myself up for the Reaping, god forbids we look like the dirt beneath our boots today, wouldn't want to blind the poor people of the Capitol with that sight. I roll my eyes lightly at this very thought, as I swing my legs over the edge of my bed.

I have always had a strong opinion towards the people of the Capitol, but the reality of it all is that I have an opinion about everything and everyone that passes through my life. It would be wise to keep some of my thoughts to myself, but every time my mouth betrays me, allowing the words to slip free from my lips against my will. I stretch my arms out, pulling myself out of bed and pushing the memories of my dream to the back of mind. The silence bounces off the walls back at me, as I make my way towards the small mirror that stands in the corner of my room. Of course it is quiet today, it is one of the few days my parents are around to actually take care of my younger twin sisters, instead of leaving me alone to do it. I can't really blame them however, I know they are pushing themselves beyond their limits, working themselves to the bone so they have enough money to provide us with the things we need, but there is also that part of me that knows they are overworking themselves to keep them occupied so they don't have the time to think about their deceased son, my brother James.

I stand in front of the mirror, my mind being assaulted by my thoughts, but my eyes take in the appearance of my fourteen year old form. I brush my long dark brown hair away from my eyes, tying in back into a bun with quick nimble fingers. My bright green eyes stare back at me, their surface dotted with small flecks of gold, which seem to burst out from my pupils. My fingers then begin searching through my dresser drawers until they brush across the only dress I own. I slip the silky black fabric over my head, allowing it to hug around my body, but I cannot stop myself from relentlessly tugging down the fabric, trying to cover up as much of my skin as I possibly can.

"Why girls purposefully try to expose as much skin as they can is beyond me," I mutter to myself beneath my breath. I have never been like most other girls, but I embrace my differences with my arms spread wide. Being more sarcastic and witty than most has made it difficult for me to connect with anyone who has passed through my life, but there have been those few people that have stuck around.

I suck in my breath taking in my image once more, but this time my eyes fall on my scar. My slender fingers carefully trace the length of the jagged scar, which runs the length of my skin from my shoulder to my elbow. Trouble has always been something that has followed my every waking moment, but it is my fault for not being able to turn away from a fight. Perhaps it is my pride or my need to prove myself that does not allow me to simply walk away from those who attempt to provoke me. This scar is living proof of that, a girl from my school decided to taunt me about my brother, saying he was too weak to even stand a ghost of a chance of winning his games. I couldn't stop myself from lashing out at her, she had pressed the wrong buttons, pushed me too far, but this scar was the end result. I don't mind the sight of it; I have been told scars are history written on the body, each one holding onto a story just waiting to be told.

My thoughts are interrupted by a soft what could be described as a knocking sound at my window. I look towards the glass, a puzzled look dancing across my features. I quickly slip into a basic pair of flats before I make my way over to the window. It's quiet for a few more moments before there is that sound again, but this time I do see the cause of it. A small pebble hits the glass of my window, which is shortly after followed by another one. I slide open the window, poking my head outside the small space, a faint smile tugging at my lips when my eyes take in the source of this disruption.

"Hey, Braylee, I thought we could walk down to the Reapings together," David calls up to me. David and I have been together for a few months now, we may be young still, but he is one of the few people who accept me for who I am, and can put up with my fiery attitude. When he first asked me to be his girl I couldn't stop myself from laughing, simply because I thought he was only joking, but the first kiss that we shared cut off my laughter, only proving that he was dead serious.

"I'll be right down," I call down to him. I don't want to walk downstairs however; I don't want to see the pained look that twists up my parents expressions from having to pay witness to seeing another one of their children making their way towards the reaping. Without really thinking my options through I begin to shimmy out of my window, scaling down the rough edges of the side of my home. "You better not be looking up my dress," I shoot down to David before I land down on the ground next to him. He rubs the back of his neck, with a sheepish grin dancing across his lips. "You know I have more respect for you than that," He says as he kisses my cheek sweetly, taking my hand in his, intertwining our fingers together. I know his words hold the truth because he has always been a little overprotective of me, which from time to time has the habit of working its way beneath my skin.

"Of course you do, Mr. Overprotective," I roll my eyes playfully, as we begin to make our way towards the town square; swinging our interlocked hands slightly with each step we take.

"I only have to be overprotective of you because you are constantly getting yourself into trouble," David says in response to my precisely chosen nickname for him.

"I am not," I try to say this smoothly, but it comes out with a sarcastic edge because I know he is right. He begins to laugh, but cuts himself off as the stage placed in the centre of the town square begins to loom in the distance. I am not as nervous as most people here seem to be. Perhaps I should be, as over the years the odds have proven themselves to not be in my families favour, but my logic is that already one child has been stolen away from my family, their blood being spilt purely for the entertainment of the people of the Capitol, to fulfill their undying cravings of bloodlust, the same fate would not fall on me, another child of the same family. However in a few moments time I would be proven just how wrong I could be.

**So I just wanted to do a little shout out and say thanks to all of my lovely readers and reviewers, you guys keep me determined to update quickly. :3**

**Now here is your sponsor question for this chapter.**

**What type of tree does Katniss sleep in on the first night of the 74****th**** Hunger Games?**

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